Isabella Malfoy
by germanotta
Summary: The war has just ended. Hermione leaves to find her parents, but a letter from the ministry informs her of their death. She drinks away her pain, and finds herself in bed with a handsome stranger. Nine months later, a baby is found outside Malfoy Manor.
1. Prologue

**Isabella Malfoy**

**The war has just ended. Hermione leaves to find her parents and bring them home, but a letter from the ministry informs her of their death. She drinks away her pain in the Leaky Cauldron, and finds herself in bed with a handsome stranger. Nine months later, a child is found on the doorstep of Malfoy Manor.**

_**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I don't own the Harry Potter series. It belongs to the ridiculously talented and imaginative JKR.**_

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><p><em>Dear Ron,<em>

_At the moment I'm staying in an inn overlooking Sydney harbour. I've been searching for just over a year ... Every day I think about giving up and going home, but they're my parents. I did this to them, and I need to fix it. I need to bring them home with me._

_I don't know what to say without getting emotional, I just wanted to let you know I haven't been eaten by a troll. I love you._

_Hermione x_

Hermione frowned slightly, and snapped her fingers. The owl that was sitting on top of the wardrobe flew down and sat on the desk in front of her. She stroked him gently, and he hooted. He was a Hogwarts owl, and she was borrowing him for the time being, while she looked for her parents. She tied the letter to him and opened the window, only to be greeted by a rather large tawny owl who pecked at her finger.

"Ouch!" She sent the school owl off, putting her finger into her mouth. "Darn bird" she muttered, as she untied the letter from its leg. She froze momentarily as she recognized the seal. The Ministry of Magic. Slowly she opened it, unfolded it, and read. When she finished, she folded it up and stuffed it into her case. Picking up the empty owl cage in one hand, case in the other, she disappeared with a crack.

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><p>"A large firewhisky please, Tom."<p>

"Make it two," a man slurred from the shadows at the end of the bar. "On me."

Usually Hermione wouldn't let a stranger buy her a drink, but considering her current mood, she wasn't going to argue. She downed the entire glass, her throat burning.

"Another one." Tom eyed her suspiciously. He knew this girl, and it wasn't from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes, keep them coming for the lady" the man in the shadows slurred again. "I'll pay."

Hermione considered saying something, but decided against it. She had just spent the last year travelling round Australia looking for her parents, and she didn't have the money to drink herself stupid the way she wanted to.

After the seventh glass, she put her head down on the bar and started to cry. The stranger came out of the shadows, but her vision was blurry and she couldn't tell who he was. He sat down beside her and put his head on the bar facing her.

"Why are you crying?" he giggled.

"My parents died. Their plane to Australia got attacked by death eaters during the war."

"Oh," the young man said, seeming to sober up slightly. He sat up, then slumped down again, banging his face off the bar. Hermione giggled.

"My parents were involved in the war too," the man said, turning his head to face Hermione again. "They were bad, bad people. They made me bad," he hiccuped. "They're in Azkaban now. My father got kissed."

Hermione looked at him, and her eyes widened. "He got kissed? By dementors?"

"No, silly," the man giggled again. "By my mother. She loved him. She still does. That's why she went to Azkaban. She didn't really do anything wrong, she just loved my father too much. She loved him, and he loved ..." he hesitated, checking that Tom wasn't listening, and whispered "Voldemort."

Hermione fell off her chair, hitting the ground with a dull thud. She lay there for a moment in silence, before being overcome by hysterical laughter. The stranger joined her on the floor, and after a good few minutes, they both sat up and looked at each other.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Hermione giggled, and whispered "I think I'm drunk."

The stranger nodded, and as Hermione looked at him, her vision focused for a few seconds. She had caught a glimpse of his face, but the whole world was spinning and she couldn't put a name to it.

"Do you want to go upstairs, Drunk?" the man asked, with another hiccup. Hermione nodded and giggled, and he helped her to stand. As she leaned on the bar to hold herself upright, he slammed his hands down on the bar.

"Excuse me please, the lady and I would like a room for tonight." Tom rolled his eyes, and the stranger produced several galleons from his pocket. He dropped them on the bar, and Tom handed him a key.

"Top of the stairs, second left."

The man took Hermione by the hand and, stumbling and giggling, lead her to their room.

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><p><strong>AN: I know the first chapter is quite short, but this is my first fanfic, and I wasn't really sure how to start it off. Think of this as the prologue. Reviews would be wonderful! *hint hint***


	2. Worst Fears: Confirmed

**Isabella Malfoy**

_**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I don't own the Harry Potter series. It belongs to the ridiculously talented and imaginative JKR.**_

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><p>Hermione opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times, blinded by the sunlight that was streaming into the window. Her head ached with a constant, dull thud. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room, trying desperately to remember what had happened the previous night.<p>

She had received a letter informing her of her parents' death. She had apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, where a man seemed intent on buying her firewhisky. Or rather, she had planned to buy herself enough firewhisky to drown herself in, and he simply took the responsibility upon himself. And now, here she was, lying in bed in a room above the pub, naked.

Oh Merlin, she was naked! She tried desperately to remember who the man was, clinging to every scrap of detail that she could remember. He was tall. Taller than her. His speech was slurred, although that probably only meant he was having just as much trouble remembering as she was. She tapped her foot impatiently. _Come on Hermione, think!_ The voice inside her head yelled at her.

She decided to ask Tom, the barman. She got out of bed slowly, and glanced at the chair in the corner. Her clothes had been neatly folded. She realized whoever the mystery man was, he had probably looked at her before he left. He knew who she was. Even if they really were just strangers, he would know her name. After Harry had defeated Voldemort, 'the Golden Trio' were never out of the Daily Prophet.

She got dressed, and tied her unruly hair into a ponytail, charming it to look less frizzy. It didn't work, as it rarely did, and she sighed sullenly. She went in to the tiny en-suite bathroom and washed her face with the cold water, allowing it to wash off whatever make-up had not been cried away the night before.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, the bar was full of witches and wizards who had come to enjoy breakfast. Hermione smiled to herself. It was nice to see that people weren't afraid to go out any more. Now that Voldemort was truly gone, and his followers all locked up in high security cells in Azkaban, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Azkaban. She remembered something about that, from the previous night. She sat down at the bar, and though she didn't know why, her mind told her to put her head down. She did so slowly, and closed her eyes. She heard a voice, and she recognized it. It was slurred, as she remembered, and she couldn't say who the voice belonged to, but she knew it was someone she had met before.

She sat up again sheepishly, noticing Tom staring at her. She motioned for him to come closer, and as he did so she whispered, "who was the man I was with last night?"

Tom shook his head and sighed. "You shouldn't talk to strangers, dear. He asked me not to tell you who he was, when he left this morning."

Hermione looked away, embarrassed. She never did things like this. She was just upset- no, heartbroken- that she didn't get the chance to say goodbye to her parents. Not properly, anyway. She had sent them to Australia to be safe, and they had died anyway. She blinked away the tears that started forming in her eyes.

"Anyway Miss, the young man paid for the room last night, and you're supposed to be out by eleven. It's almost quarter to, now," Tom smiled at her.

Hermione nodded, returning his smile weakly. She stood, and made her way back to the room, stopping half way up the staircase.

"_I must say, you are a very beautiful lady. Beautiful ladies should not cry. Beautiful ladies should not drink themselves stupid, only stupid men should drink themselves stupid. Only boys whose parents are in Azkaban." He stumbled up the step, and they both giggled noisily. Someone shouted from their room about 'young whipper-snappers', and they both stared at each other silently while the world spun around them, before giggling again and continuing up the staircase._

She knew his voice so well. And now she knew that his parents were in Azkaban. That wasn't good, at all. She sat down on the bed and looked out of the window. It could be Crabbe, or Goyle. _Oh Merlin, please don't let it be Crabbe or Goyle._ She thought about the clothes folded neatly on the chair, and that he had asked Tom not to tell her who he was. He obviously had something to hide. Or a reason to avoid her.

And then the answer hit her like a tonne of bricks. Draco Malfoy. She groaned inwardly, and put her clothes from last night in to her case. She cast a spell on the empty cage and it shrunk down to a tiny size. She put it in the case, and closed it.

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><p><em>Hermione Granger, you bloody fool! Of all the people in the world, you had to have a drunken one night stand with Draco Malfoy. <em>She hated that inner voice. Loathed it. Sighing as she wandered slowly down Diagon Alley, she smiled faintly to herself. Most of the shops had re-opened, and were swarming with people. Yes, she was sad about her parents dying. She was positively devastated about it, but she knew she would be okay. The wizarding world was her home now, it was where she belonged.

She stopped outside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and peered through the window. George was there, entertaining a group of small children by putting his wand to his remaining ear, and making sparks fly out of the hole where his other ear no longer was.

She walked through the open door, and yelled, "George Weasley! Don't you know how dangerous that is? You could blow your bloody brains out!"

George grinned at her. "Impossible," he said. "I haven't got any!"

They half walked, half ran to each other as they embraced each other in a fierce hug.

"Ron will be thrilled to know you're home, 'Mione," George beamed. _Damn it, Ron!_ She had totally forgotten about how she was going to tell him what had happened the previous night. She thought about it for a few seconds longer, and decided she wasn't.

"Yeah," she smiled at him. "Listen, George, could you pass a message on to him for me? Tell him the ministry sent me an owl. My parents' plane crashed on the way to Australia. Death eaters. Tell him I need to spend a while on my own, and when I'm ready, I'll come back for him."

George threw his arms around Hermione, and whispered in her ear, "of course I'll tell him. You know you're always welcome at the Burrow, right? You might feel like right now you need some time on your own, but that doesn't mean you have to go through this alone."

Hermione smiled at him, kissed his cheek, and left the shop.

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><p>She smiled at the goblin who was standing by the door, and proceeded to the nearest free desk. "The Ministry of Magic told me to give you this," she said, taking out the letter from her case, and handing over a piece of parchment. The goblin read it and nodded.<p>

"You can choose to keep some of the money in your muggle bank account, or transfer it all to your account here at Gringotts."

Hermione thought for a moment, and replied "I'd like to transfer it all, please." She didn't intend to go back to the muggle world for a while. She was greatful that the ministry had dealt with her parents' will, having all their belongings transferred into her name and put into storage. She was going to sell their house in the muggle world, and buy a cottage in Mould-on-the-Wold. It was quiet and peaceful, and nobody would bother her there, which gave her plenty of time to sort out her head.

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><p>It had been three months since the night Hermione found out about her parents' death. Three months since her drunken encounter with Draco Malfoy. She had started to put on weight, and at first she had put it down to finally eating regularly. There really was no denying it though, she was gaining fast, and she feared the worst.<p>

A visit to St. Mungos confirmed it. Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, muggle-born girl who could never do wrong, was eighteen, and carrying the child of one of the most pureblooded wizards in the world.

She apparated home to her small cottage on the outskirts of Mould-on-the-Wold, and collapsed on to the sofa. She curled up, pulling her knees to her chest, and cried. She cried for those who gave up their lives in the war. She cried for her parents, who she would never see again. She cried for Ron, who she hoped would never know what had happened that night three months ago, and she cried for her unborn child.

She wasn't going to abort the baby. She had spent long enough campaigning about the defence of house elves, without being hypocritical and killing a defenceless child. In her eyes, it would make her no less than Lord Voldemort himself.

But she couldn't return to Ron with a baby. Oh, how she longed to return to Ron. He may have been an insufferable prat at times, but she loved him. She loved his lack of common sense, his overuse of sarcasm and his lopsided grin.

She knew what she had to do. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she grabbed a quill, ink, and a blank piece of parchment.

_Dear Ron,_

_I know I haven't been in touch with you, and I'm sorry. I want you to know that I'm okay – the troll hasn't found me yet._

_As I'm sure George has already told you, my parents died. I know you're probably really mad at me for not visiting you, but please try to understand. Think of all the pain your family went through when Fred died, and multiply it by two. Now do you see why I had to go away?_

_Please don't forget about me. I'll be with you before the Summer starts. I love you, Ronald Weasley, and I'm so sorry._

_Hermione x_

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><p><em><strong>AN: This chapter is for AliceMary Whitlock Cullen-Hale, FredWeasleyLover25, Carebear114, claire96, Miss Hermione Granger 1995 & xox Unleashed Butterfly xox**_

_**Now go review, seeing as I uploaded the prologue and the first chapter in the same night! Pretty please? :3**_


	3. Unmistakably Malfoy

**Isabella Malfoy**

_**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I don't own the Harry Potter series. It belongs to the ridiculously talented and imaginative JKR.**_

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><p>Hermione sighed sadly, as she looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms, to see a tiny face smiling up at her. The nine months of pregnancy had been easy, which she was grateful for. She had thought the birth would be the most difficult, painful part of the ordeal, but as she gazed down upon her daughter, she knew that was no longer the case.<p>

If there was any doubt in Hermione's mind that Draco Malfoy fathered her child, it was erased the moment she saw her daughter. She had a small fluffy tuft of white blonde hair, and her eyes were a piercing grey.

"What kind of life will you have, baby?" Hermione cooed. A small gurgle came from the bundle of blankets, and Hermione placed her daughter gently into the Moses basket next to her. She pulled the swinging bed table across her lap, and picked up a quill.

When she was finished, she folded the letter and put it in an envelope, writing two letters on the front: _DM. _She stood up slowly, and placed the letter in her small handbag. She lifted the basket where her daughter gurgled and spluttered playfully, and headed down the hospital corridor to discharge herself.

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><p><em>I've fought in a war. I've been tortured, and I've watched my friends die. My parents were killed, and I've had very little human contact over the last nine months. And this is the most painful thing I've ever done. <em>

Hermione sniffed, and blinked away tears, walking up the long path to Malfoy Manor, where she knew Draco lived. As she walked, she looked around her, and she felt slightly better about her descision. "You'll have a good life," she whispered softly as her eyes scanned the huge garden, catching a glimpse of two or three exotic birds.

_He might have done some bad things_, Hermione thought to herself, _but he would never harm his own child._ She knew the Malfoy's were a proud family, and she remembered the look on Narcissa Malfoy's face on the final night of the war. She remembered the way her eyes filled with love and adoration for her son, and she knew that Draco would look at their child the same way.

As she rounded a corner, a small gasp escaped her lips. She knew the Malfoys were a wealthy family, but she had never really thought about how rich they were. The manor was huge, probably big enough to rival the White House.

She carefully placed the Moses basket down in front of the door, and reached in to her bag. She took out the letter, and placed it next to her daughter, who was now sleeping peacefully. Reaching in to her pocket, she pulled out a necklace. It had a thin silver chain, and a small, red, heart-shaped crystal. Hermione pointed her wand at the necklace and it split in two, the heart breaking. She attached one half of the heart to her own silver chain, and placed the other next to the letter.

She reached out for the huge brass door knocker, shaped like a snake, and knocked three times. She turned her back on her daughter, walking down the steps. She allowed one solitary tear to roll down her cheek, and apparated with a crack.

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><p>Draco Malfoy was in his study reading the Daily Prophet when he heard a faint pop outside the door, followed by a timid knock. "Come in," he said uninterested, reading an article about the new teachers who had been appointed positions at Hogwarts. He saw Neville Longbottom's name, listed as the new Herbology teacher, and gave a small chuckle as the door opened.<p>

He looked up from the newspaper to see a very small house elf standing in front of him, wearing a pink and white polka-dot dress. "Excuse mister Malfoy," she squeaked. "Tilly heard the door being knocked, but when Tilly opened the door, there was just a basket at the door mister Malfoy, and Tilly is a very small elf," she looked at the floor and shuffled her foot, embarassed. "Tilly could not lift the basket, mister Malfoy."

Draco chuckled again, rising from his chair. "Don't worry about it, Tilly. I'll get the basket." He followed the elf from the room, and she lead him down to the front door, which was still slightly open. Half expecting it to be flowers from another admirer, he stood in shock when he lifted the basket to be greeted by a sleeping baby.

"Tilly," he whispered. "I'm going to need a large coffee." He heard the elf disappear, and carried the basket inside, closing the door behind him. He went back in to his study, placing the basket on the desk and opening the letter that was inside.

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><p><em>Draco,<em>

_Nine months ago, I found out my parents had died. I was distraught, and proceeded to drink my pain away in the Leaky Cauldron. You might remember that you were there also, in a very similar situation. That is to say, we were both blind drunk._

_I understand that you didn't want me to know who you were, as it was simply a one night stand. However, our drunken moment of stupidity has brought you a blessing. The child in the basket is our daughter. Your daughter. I know you will be able to provide for her things which I can't, and I know you will love her unconditionally._

_In the basket, there is also half of a crystal heart, on a chain. I have the other half. All I ask is that you give her the necklace on the day she leaves to start at Hogwarts. I realize you will probably have a whole other life by that time, and you don't have to tell her who it is from. Pretend it's a gift from you._

_I haven't named her. I don't feel like it's my place to give her a name, when I won't give her a childhood. She's your daughter. She's going to rely on your to be there for her, and she relies on you for a name. Please, don't call her something ridiculous._

_I wish I could say more, but you don't understand the pain of giving up your child. I hope you never do. I understand that when you get married, which you undoubtedly will seeing as you're a Malfoy and you're filthy rich and probably haven't changed much since your days at Hogwarts, she may grow up to call your wife her mother. That's okay. What sort of mother gives her child up, anyway?_

_She looks like you, Draco. I can only hope she grows up to be as strong and respected as you are. I know you're on the right path now, and you're going to be a great father. Just love her as much as I do, and everything will be perfect._

_H x_

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><p>Draco put the letter down and stared in to space for a moment, re-reading the letter in his head. He had a daughter. With Hermione Granger. He had a daughter with Hermione Granger. He knew at this point he should be terrified. He had never looked after a child before, but as he looked in to the basket, he saw that his daughter was unmistakably Malfoy, and something inside him switched him into father mode.<p>

He lifted the small child from the basket and cradled her in his arms. Tilly appeared with a pop, levitating a mug on to the table. "Mister Malfoy, you appear to have acquired a baby" she stated matter-of-factly.

Draco smiled, "Yes, Tilly. Her name is Isabella, and she is my daughter."

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><p>"Mister Malfoy, we have finished cleaning the nursery," three house elves squeaked in unison. They were all identical to each other, apart from the coloured t-shirts they were wearing that reached their knees.<p>

Draco nodded. "Aspen, Aster, Ashes. Thank you." The three elves bowed, and Draco tutted.

"Sorry, mister Malfoy," the elf in the blue t-shirt squeaked. "Aspen and his brothers are not used to being employed elves."

Draco nodded again. "It's okay. For your hard work, you can each take the rest of the day off." The three elves nodded with wide eyes, and disappeared simultaneously with one loud pop.

Draco stood up from his armchair by the fire, cooing at his daughter as she gurgled happily in his arms. He carried her up the stairs, blowing raspberries while she giggled. He gently tapped open the door to the nursery with his foot, and stood in shock.

_Those elves really are magic_, Draco chucked to himself. He hadn't been in this room since he was a small boy, but he remembered it well. It was a dark room when he was a child, the walls and carpet were both a deep green, so very typical of a Slytherin. Now, the elves had lightened everything to a pastel shade, and enchanted the ceiling to have clouds float dreamily.

Draco placed the baby in the silver crib, and watched her contentedly as she reached up, trying to catch the clouds. He smiled. Today had certainly been eventful, but he had taken it all in his stride. He sat down on the chair next to the crib, and watched his daughter tire of catching clouds, and drift off into the world of slumber.

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><p>He stood up quietly and left, closing the door behind him and casting a spell that would let him know when she woke up. He went out in to the grounds, pointing his wand at the gates to the manor, muttering several different incantations.<p>

Now that the war was over, and the news had circulated that Draco Malfoy had been under the influence of the imperius curse cast on him by his father, there was no need for security enchantments. However, he wasn't taking any risks. It would keep that pesky Rita Skeeter away too, when word got around of the new Malfoy baby, as he knew it surely would.

Draco was a successful businessman, owning his own company selling magical sport equipment. If he wasn't famous for belonging to one of the most pureblooded families in the wizarding world, it was for his latest creation, the Aeterno: the first broom that needed to be trained.

As opposed to normal brooms, designed for speed or agility, the Aeterno came with only the basic functions, and adapted to what the owner needed it for. For seekers, speed was key, and Draco knew that from experience. For people simply using their broom as another mode of transport, it learned to fly at a leisurely pace. If its necessary use changed, the broom could be re-trained, as opposed to buying a different one.

His new found fame in the the sporting world, and the small fortune it had brought him, ensured that he had journalists queueing up to interview him. He was famous for more than just his blood line. He was a celebrity now, and he knew there was no way he could hide Isabella. He would simply tell everyone that her mother wished to remain anonymous for the time being, or that she had moved abroad to work in a muggle community.

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><p>Draco returned to the nursery and looked down lovingly on his daughter. He leaned over the crib and planted a soft, gentle kiss on her forehead, whispered "I love you," and sat down silently on the chair, the days events playing over in his head like a movie screen. He knew today would change his life.<p>

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><p><strong>AN: Aww, how cute! Before anyone questions it, I'd just like to let you know exactly why Draco has accepted fatherhood without question. He lives in Malfoy Manor alone, with a large group of house elves (who are all free, and are paid by him, by the way!). The war has been over for two years. That's two years in a huge house on his own. Obviously he's just glad he has Isabella for company now.**

**I'd just like to say a huge, huge thank you to those of you who reviewed, favourited and now follow this fic. You have no idea how much it means to me, and I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible. (:  
><strong>


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